Skin Deep
by Batsutousai
Summary: Trisha and Van's first child, Edith, was born a beautiful, healthy girl. The only problem? Ed knew he was a boy. -NO PAIRINGS-
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** _Skin Deep_  
 **Fandom:** _Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood_ /manga  
 **Author:** Batsutousai  
 **Rating:** Mature  
 **Warnings:** Ed's potty mouth, transboy!Ed, transphobia  & trans erasure, gender dysphoria, support where you least expect it, hurt/comfort, menstruation talk, unwanted advances, canon typical violence  
 **Summary:** Trisha and Van's first child, Edith, was born a beautiful, healthy girl. The only problem? Ed knew he was a boy.

 **Disclaim Her:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Arakawa Hiromu and various publishers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
Some scenes are taken from the manga.

 **A/N:** I...have no idea what I'm doing. This little bunny just hopped up onto my shoulder and started whispering into my ear, and I'm powerless to resist cute little bunnies, especially when they're whispering lgbtqia+ ideas, because I am weak, and the world needs more lgbtqia+ representation.

I am not trans, and I've admittedly never had any in depth conversations with any of the trans men I know, so if you see something completely wrong or if something makes you go 'wtf', please tell me and I'll do my best to fix it.  
That said, the first scene does use female pronouns, despite Ed's gender, because it's from Trisha's PoV (Ed's a little young to have a PoV), and, as much as I think she was an awesome mum, even the best parents have their failings, and I don't think Trisha would have wanted to give up on having a daughter. (That said, if she'd survived, I think she'd eventually have come around, especially once she realised just how much _damage_ she was doing to Ed by refusing to accept who he is.)

I waffled about pairings for a long while, because I have my OTP and I love it. But this isn't a story about Ed falling in love, this is a story about how canon might have changed if Ed had a female body even though he's _male_ , and any shipping would take away from that. So.  
That said, there is a brief, one-sided Greed/Ed in the second chapter, because Greed is a creeper and stuck in the body of a sixteen-year-old. Absolutely no one is amused.

You can also read this at Archive of Our Own, tumblr, or LiveJournal.

-0-

-0-

"I hate my name," Edith told Trisha when she was four.

Trisha just smiled at her daughter and kissed her head. "It's a beautiful name, as befitting such a beautiful girl."

Edith crossed her arms over her chest and did her best scowl, which really just looked cute. "I'm not _beautiful_ ," she insisted.

"Of course you are, as lovely as can be."

"And I'm not a _girl_ ," Edith added, raising her voice like she was trying to talk over Trisha.

Trisha blinked in confusion, then sighed and left off making dinner to crouch down next to her eldest. "Sweetheart, you know how Alphonse has different parts under his pants than you do?" Because one of the dangers of being an only mother with two extremely rambunctious children, was that sometimes you had to throw propriety out the window when it came to bath time.

Edith frowned a bit and nodded; she'd asked about it before.

"Those are the parts little boys have. You, however, have the parts little girls have, which makes you..." She motioned for Edith to finish the sentence.

Edith's shoulder's slumped and she looked, for a moment, like she might cry. "A girl," she whispered.

Trisha sighed and drew her daughter into a hug. "It's not a bad thing, being a girl. Mum was a girl, too, when she was your age. And so were Granny Pinako and Auntie Sarah."

"I don't wanna be a girl," Edith said, so quietly Trisha wasn't certain she was supposed to have heard it.

Trisha bit back a sigh and kissed Edith's forehead, wishing Van hadn't gone hunting for a way to become mortal. She loved and missed him, certainly, but his legacy – impossible alchemic talent, Xerxesian colouring, and, now, whatever this was – was something she struggled to manage on her own, and she was never certain she wasn't leading their children to ruin.

"Just give it time, Edith," she whispered. "One day, you'll be glad you're a girl."

-0-

"Al," Ed said, staring down at their mother's grave.

"Yeah?" Al replied into his knees.

"Can you...call me 'brother', from now on?"

Al looked up and shot Ed a confused look. "But...you're my sister. Mum said."

Ed looked down at his – her? Mum would want it to be 'her', but Ed didn't _feel_ like a her, hated his body because it was wrong, wrong, _wrong_ – hands and clenched them tight. "I know. But...could you do it anyway? For me?"

Al was quiet for a long moment, until Ed finally looked up and met his little brother's sad, tired eyes. "Okay, Brother," Al said.

Ed swallowed back tears – boys _didn't cry_ and he _hated_ his body for always doing everything _wrong_ – and knelt to hug Al, feeling so impossibly _relieved_. " _Thank you_ ," he whispered.

Al hugged him back just as tight, like he knew. Like he got how much Ed had needed that, even though _Ed_ hadn't known.

Ed swallowed again and leant up to kiss Al's forehead, just like Mum always did. "Let's go home," he said, standing up and tugging on Al's arm.

Al sighed and cast one last heartbroken look at Mum's grave, then said, "I'm _coming_ , Brother." Like it was natural. Like Ed'd _always_ been his brother.

(Maybe, Ed hoped, it was because, to Al, he had been.)

-0-

"Ed?" Winry asked when they left for school one morning, Al waving wildly after them from the Rockbell porch.

"Winry?" Ed returned, grinning and waving back at his brother.

"Why is Al calling you 'Brother'?"

Ed tripped and barely managed to right himself by catching Winry's shoulder with one hand. She grabbed his elbow, keeping him steady, and shot him a concerned look while he forced himself to take a deep breath and figure out what to say. Winry had been the one to suggest 'Ed' as an alternative to 'Edith' the first time she'd heard him complain about his birth name, but she was a girl. Would she be just like Mum had, insisting Ed would grow into it?

He swallowed, then replied, "I'mnotagirlI'maboyandAlsaidit'scoolhe'llcallmeBrother."

Winry just sort of blinked at him for a moment, then shook her head and started walking again, using her grip on Ed's elbow to drag him along after. "Mum and Dad and Granny and Auntie Trisha all say – said – you're a girl," she pointed out in that irritating 'these are the facts' voice she'd got from Auntie Sarah.

"I'm _not_ , though," Ed muttered, ducking his head; he shouldn't have told her. Of course she'd listen to the adults instead of him. It'd probably be all over town by the end of the day that Ed was all mixed up and thought he was a _boy_. Funny little Ed, no father, no mother, all mixed up. Knock him around a little, that'll help.

But then Winry said, "Okay."

Ed blinked, thrown. "Okay?" he repeated.

"Okay." Winry let go of his elbow and laced her fingers together in front of her pretty sundress, one of the ones Ed had thrown a temper tantrum over receiving, then been forced into and ordered outside to play with Winry. Winry'd offered to trade him, because she'd liked it, and Ed had liked the overalls she'd been wearing, and Mum had thrown her hands up when Ed'd come home and muttered about how 'at least _someone_ appreciates my hard work'. (Ed'd only felt a little bad.)

They walked the rest of the way to the schoolhouse in silence. And, by the end of the day, no one was pointing fingers at him or whispering while casting him funny looks. And Winry grabbed his elbow, same as always, and said, "Let's head home, Ed!"

And Al called him 'Brother' and Winry called him 'Ed', and Granny sometimes looked at them a bit odd, but she never asked.

And even though Mum was gone and Auntie Sarah and Uncle Yuriy were far away and he missed them all a lot and wished they were all home and alive, Ed was happy.

-0-

It was almost a month after getting stuck on that island, that Ed took his chance and approached Teacher with a question he needed to ask, something that was important to him in a different way than having Mum back. Al'd already fallen asleep, and Ed was pretty tired himself, but he still made himself go back downstairs to where Teacher was making a note of the day's sales in her ledger.

She startled a bit when she saw him, and asked, "Ed? Shouldn't you be asleep?"

Ed swallowed and shuffled forward, pulling himself up into the chair across from her. "I had a question."

Teacher gingerly set her pencil to the side and folded her fingers together over the open ledger. "And?"

Ed couldn't manage to meet her eyes, instead looked down to trace the whorls on the table with his eyes. "Is there any way to–" No, that wasn't quite right. "I-if your– If _someone's_ body was...wrong, can it be...fixed? With alchemy?"

"Wrong how?" Teacher asked in her patient tone. The one that reminded Ed of Mum and made the loss of her ache that much worse.

"Like the– Like they've got the wrong...parts. Down there." He pointed down, toward his lap. (That part of his anatomy that _lied_ , made everyone who knew about it think _he_ was a _she_.)

Teacher was quiet for a long moment, and when Ed finally found the courage to glance up at her, he found her watching him with something that looked a lot like grief. "I'm afraid," she offered once he was looking up at her, "that the body we're born with, is the body we die with; there's no alchemy that can fix that."

Ed felt like his heart had just plummeted into his stomach, was being burnt away by the acid there, because that meant– She was saying–

"I see," he whispered, and forced himself to get up and walk out, to go back up to his and Al's shared room and climb into his brother's bed.

"Brofer?" Al mumbled sleepily.

"Bad dream," Ed whispered, petting his brother's hair. "Go back to sleep."

Al made a sad sort of noise and twisted, dropping one arm over Ed's side and burrowing his nose against Ed's chest. "Hugs now," he mumbled. "Better in morning."

Ed closed his eyes and hugged Al close, couldn't explain that morning wouldn't change anything.

He would never escape his body.

-0-

Teacher had never brought up that conversation again, apparently content to let him have his secrets. And she didn't start treating him different, except maybe to make him train harder, be faster, better, more able to hold his own against _anyone_. Just like _her_.

Ed had no idea if he was grateful or not, but the one time he actually managed to beat Al was a _wonder_ , and even if he _never_ managed to do so again, he had that one victory to hold close to his heart, remind him that even his wrong body could hold its own, if he only trained it hard enough.

That was worth all the pulled muscles in the world.

-0-

"The front plate is going to get in the way of your breasts," Granny said flatly as she passed her and Winry's designs for Ed's new automail arm over to him.

Al made a vaguely horrified noise, like that was maybe something he'd never wanted to hear, but Ed was too lost in his own world of disgust to worry about his brother. "So?" he snarled. "I don't fuckin' want 'em!"

Granny oh-so-calmly took a draw of her pipe, then breathed out the cloud of smoke to one side. "What you do and don't want has no bearing on your body, Edith," she finally said, her tone hard.

Ed flinched at the hated name and scrunched down in his chair a bit; just because Granny had given in to his requests that she use his nickname, didn't mean she wouldn't use his birth name to cut him back down to that confused little child he'd been before Al and Winry had so readily accepted him. "I know that," he whispered, and hated that his voice came out thick, like he was maybe trying not to cry. (He wasn't. _Boys don't cry_.)

"Brother..." Al whispered, and Ed couldn't find it in himself to shrug away the empty gauntlet that came to rest on his shoulder. (At least, now, he wasn't the only one in the wrong body. And he _hated_ himself for thinking that, but it was also a reminder; he knew this hell, and he might be trapped in it forever, but he could free Al. He _would_ free Al.)

"Well, as long as Ed comes back for adjustments regularly, we can work around it, right?" Winry offered a bit helplessly.

Ed didn't look up, had no interest in meeting the stare he knew Granny would have focussed on him.

There was a click as Granny's pipe hit the ashtray. "Fine. But the _moment_ you feel sore, you need to come back," she snapped, and Ed immediately started nodding. "I _mean it_ , Ed," she snapped. "Don't go ignoring my warnings just because you think you know better."

That...stung. She'd meant it to, he knew, but that didn't soften the blow at all. Because, if he'd listened to Teacher and all those other alchemists who'd said no human transmutation, Al wouldn't be trapped in the wrong body, and Mum wouldn't be dead all over again.

"Yes, Granny," he said quietly. Defeated.

Granny grunted and took the plans back. "Good. We'll get started in the morning. For now, dinner."

They were silent as she shuffled out of the room, the smoke of her pipe trailing after her. Once she was gone, though, Winry knelt next to him, peering up at him. "Hey, Ed?"

" _What_?" he snapped, defensive.

She didn't flinch, knew him far too well to let his snarling get to her. "We'll figure something out. And, hey! Maybe you'll get lucky and they'll be super tiny!" Her eyes sparkled in that way they always did when she was teasing him, and Ed–

" _Who the fuck're you calling so small no one'll ever notice him?!_ "

–took the bait, and gladly.

Winry laughed and Al sighed and Ed had no idea what he'd do without them.

-0-

Al could have been standing at his side, but Ed had desperately needed to meet the lieutenant colonel and take the State Alchemist exam on his own. This was _his sin_ , not his brother's, and he needed to prove – at least to himself – that he didn't need his brother behind him, pushing him forward and scaring off all opposition.

He was _not_ some weak-willed little _girl_.

(Which he would _never_ say aloud around Winry, because she'd think he was insulting her and murder him.)

He announced himself at the gate, and it didn't take Mustang long to show, the blonde woman that had been at Granny's following behind him. (Riza, Winry had said her name was, when Al had asked. Not that Ed really cared, or anything.)

"Hey, Lieutenant Colonel," Ed said, glaring up at the man. He looked bored, which just ticked Ed off; this guy was the one who'd told him to come!

"I've been promoted to colonel while you were taking so long so long to make up your mind," the fucker said.

Ed was going to punch him in the face and feel _zero_ regrets.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Mustang asked, and it almost sounded like he was _worried_ for a second. But, no, his expression was still bored.

Ed let out a loud bark, then snapped, "You want me to wag my tail, too?"

Mustang's expression finally changed, mouth twisting with a smile, and he let out a quiet laugh. "All right, then. To Central!"

Which, weirdly, was exactly that easy. Almost like Mustang had known Ed would show up that day, because the tickets were already booked, and Mustang and Riza already had bags, packed into the back of the car that picked them up to take them to the station.

Ed wasn't sure if he was more creeped out, or impressed.

Once on the train, in a private cabin – Ed tried not to look around like a country bumpkin – Mustang cleared his throat and said, "Miss El–"

" _Mister_ ," Ed snapped, because no fucking way he was going to let the military misgender him; he'd managed to leave that part of his life behind while he'd been in Dublith, and he was _damn well_ going to do it again.

Mustang blinked once, then looked at Riza with both eyebrows raised. "The name we have on file is Edith, right?" he asked her.

"My name is _Ed_ ," Ed insisted, even as Riza nodded and agreed, "That's correct, sir."

Mustang looked back at him, gave him one quick look-over, then turned back to Riza. "Clearly," he said blandly, "the ages weren't the only mistake in that file. Please ring back to East when we get in and have Falman correct 'Edith' to 'Edward'."

For one moment, Ed couldn't quite comprehend what he'd just heard, because it was just– _Impossible_.

"I'll see to it right away, sir," Riza agreed, looking down to make a note on the pad of paper she was holding in her lap.

This man, with his high-fuck attitude and his military blues, had just completely rewritten Ed's future. Hadn't asked why, hadn't made a face or tried to tell Ed he was a _girl_. He'd just...given Ed a new name and that was it. He was a boy, so far as the military's records were concerned.

"Now then, _Mr_ Elric," Mustang said, turning back to him. "If you'll focus for a moment–"

"Thank you," Ed breathed, couldn't have held the words in if his life had been on the line. Because Winry and Al siding with him, that had made sense, they were family. But Mustang, he didn't owe Ed _anything_.

"It's just correcting paperwork, nothing to thank me for," Mustang replied with a careless wave of his hand and a shrug. And then his eyes sharpened, narrowed, and his mouth curled with a smirk. "Preparing you for the State Alchemist exam, however. _That_ you can thank me for. Assuming your attention span isn't too short–"

" _Who're you calling so tiny he's not worth the effort to find_?!" Ed shouted, the retort automatic.

Mustang let out a loud, slightly startled laugh, while Riza just sighed.

That was the last Ed heard about Mustang changing military records for him. Any time Mustang needed to remind Ed that he had blackmail on him, it was always the human transmutation, and as much as Ed hated him for using that horrible night against him, there weren't words for how grateful he was that Mustang never questioned his gender.

-0-

When Ed was fourteen, on their way back from a mission, he used the loo in the train, and found blood leaking from between his legs.

Panic raised its ugly head right away, and Ed had to grab the washbasin and squeeze his eyes shut for a moment, trying to get himself to breathe, to _think_.

Nothing _hurt_. (Or, well, nothing hurt more than _usual_ ; the ports for his automail always ached a little, and his growing chest under the binding Winry had helped him find as soon as it started being noticeable was a pretty constant source of discomfort.) He hadn't got into a fight during his most recent mission, had barely had to exert himself at _all_. (Which had sucked, a bit; he _hated_ boring missions.)

Blood coming from his girl parts... Now he was calming down, he could sort of remember Granny saying something about that. That it was...normal. (Like _any_ part of his body was _normal_.) But he couldn't remember any more than that, hadn't really been paying attention to her. (Zoning out when someone started talking about girl things was a habit of his.)

Shit. He was going to need to go back to Resembool. He couldn't... This wasn't something he could just _ask about_ on the _phone_. Which meant he'd have to ask Mustang to give him a bit of leave, or some shit, and _that_ sounded like _fun_. (Bastard might have been willing to give Ed his gender without comment, but fucked if he wasn't a complete and utter bastard about _everything else_.)

Fuck, what excuse could he give? And what the fuck was he supposed to do about this mess until they got back to Resembool?

He did his best to wipe off the blood that had already leaked out, then yanked out a shit-tonne of toilet paper and clapped, attaching it to his boxers as best he could, hoping it would soak up any more blood.

And then, wincing in discomfort at the odd sensation of excess _stuff_ between his legs, he went back out to Al and lowered himself gingerly into his original spot.

Al, of course, noticed immediately. "Brother?" he asked, voice near _dripping_ with concern.

"Just need to see Granny about something," Ed muttered.

"Oh. Okay," Al said, so carelessly, Ed knew his brother was assuming it had something to do with the chest piece of his arm, which they'd had to go back for minor adjustments to a couple of times.

Well, awesome. No fucking way Ed was going to correct him.

-0-

Banging into Mustang's office was Ed's favourite way to announce his presence, but with the weird shit his fucked up body was pulling this time, he didn't dare. So he pushed his way in carefully, ignoring the concern Al was radiating behind him, and found himself faced with Mustang's office team, all of whom were starting to look a little worried as they saw him.

"Edward?" Lieutenant Hawkeye called, half-rising from her seat.

 _Her_. Hawkeye was a _woman_.

Ed almost hit himself.

He shoved his report at Al, instead, hurriedly saying, "Hold that. Lieutenant, can I talk to you for a moment? Privately?"

Al was utterly still, wondering who knew what behind the unchanging face-plate of his armoured body, and the males of Mustang's team all sort of blinked a few times, but Hawkeye smoothly stood and agreed, "Of course, Edward."

She led him to an empty office a few down from Mustang's, closing and locking the door to the main office, then ushering him through to the inner office and closing that door, too. "What's the problem?" she asked gently. Almost _kindly_. Like Mum.

Ed couldn't breathe for a moment, because _what was he thinking_?! He couldn't tell Hawkeye, couldn't tell _anyone_! They'd change how they acted around him, make everyone else suspicious. And they– What if Hawkeye thought he was...a freak? What if she told Mustang and the others and they all had a great laugh and kicked him out for being some sort of mixed up, wrong, _freak of nature_? What if–

" _Edward_ ," Hawkeye stressed, hand firm on his left shoulder. "You need to _breathe_."

Ed gasped in a lungful of air, almost choked on in, and reached up to grab onto her, steady himself as he tried to calm down.

This was _Hawkeye_. She was there when Mustang ordered Ed's gender changed in the military's files, had seen him broken in that wheelchair. She'd always greeted him with 'Edward', used it more than she probably needed to, almost like she was reminding him who he was, like she knew he had days where he was trapped in this horrible girl's body and could barely remember that he was a _boy_.

Like Teacher, who had never once changed how she treated Ed, even though she _had_ to have knew he'd been asking for himself.

"Better?" Hawkeye asked once Ed managed to catch his breath.

He swallowed and nodded, somehow managed to agree, "Yeah." And then, " 'M sorry."

"It's fine," Hawkeye said gently, giving his arm a brief squeeze before drawing back. Her eyes were full of concern, not a hint of judgement, and that gave Ed the courage to speak.

"You know," he started, almost stopped himself, but forced himself to continue, "that I have– that my body is a g-girl's?"

"I had wondered if it wasn't something like that," Hawkeye replied quietly, still no sign of judgement in her eyes.

Ed forced himself to take a deep breath, swallowed down his fear, and got out all in one breath, "Granny said something about girls bleeding down there but I wasn't really paying attention and now it's happened to me and I don't know what to do!"

"You didn't get hurt on your mission?" Hawkeye asked, still quiet, gentle. Calming.

Ed shook his head. "Nothing. It was fine and then I saw on the train and I just– I don't–"

"Okay." Hawkeye squeezed his shoulder again – both of them, looked like, though Ed couldn't feel the right one. "Your grandmother is right, it's a perfectly normal part of growing up for girls. It's call menstruation, and it's a sign that your body is ready to carry a child."

" _Fuck_. _No_ ," Ed bit out, doing his best to tamp down on any panic that rose at the thought.

"Edward," Hawkeye said, way too fucking kind, "there's nothing in the world saying you have to have children. That's your choice, okay? And you're _always_ within your right to say no; I have."

That was... Good. Cool. Reassuring. It helped, and Ed nodded, managing a small smile.

Hawkeye offered him a small smile back, and it didn't look nearly as weird on her face as Ed would have expected. "And, if anyone ever tries to pressure you into sex, especially without protection, punch them in the face until they stop suggesting it. With this fist." She tapped his automail.

Ed surprised himself with a laugh, even as his face heated at the mention of...'sex'. _Not_ something he wanted to try to figure out, not as fucked up as his body was.

She squeezed his shoulder again, her smile fading. "Menstruation, I'm afraid, is something that we just have to deal with. It happens approximately once a month, and it's your body's way of getting rid of everything it had prepared for the chance that you might get pregnant."

"Girl's bodies are _stupid_ ," Ed muttered, hugging himself a bit even as he said it, because it may be stupid and _wrong_ , but he was stuck with it. (What little was left.)

"All bodies are stupid," Hawkeye returned with just a hint of humour, and Ed blinked, wondering what _that_ meant. But she didn't explain, just continued with, "The menstrual cycle eventually ends, but that's not for quite some time. For both of us."

That was _not_ heartening.

Hawkeye offered him a slightly apologetic smile. "There are a couple of ways to deal with the blood. You'll probably find it most comfortable to just get some fabric – the more absorbent the better – and shape it into something you can attach to your underwear, but there's a box of disposable pads down in the ladies' locker room that you can use for now, unless you figured something else out?"

Ed shifted, uncomfortably reminded of the wad of toilet paper. "Sort of," he muttered, before shaking his head. "I can't go into the ladies' locker room, anyway."

"Would you like me to get you a couple?" Hawkeye offered.

"I–" Ed stopped, swallowed, tried not to shift again. The things made for this were... They _should_ be more comfortable, he hoped, so it would probably be better. And then, once he knew the design, it would be easy to create replicas, once he got the fabric for it. Which, if he didn't have to go to Resembool, he totally had time to do, even if Mustang sent him right back out again. "O-okay," he agreed at last, tried not to feel like he'd just given in to defeat or whatever shit.

Hawkeye's smile was oddly reassuring. "Okay. Come on, Edward."

And that was...okay. That helped, that reminder that he was still 'Edward'. That hadn't changed. _Wouldn't_ change.

He followed her down to the ladies' locker room and waited outside, trying not to look too conspicuous, until she came back out and ushered him up to a men's toilet that didn't get a lot of use. "I'll be right out here," she promised as she passed him three of the weird little plastic pockets. And Ed knew she meant if he needed her help, but it was...nice, knowing there was someone there who _knew_ , like Al and Winry. And she was on his side.

(And, fuck, if you had Riza Hawkeye on your side, you didn't fucking _need_ anyone else. Not that Ed would give up Al or Winry for _anything_.)

It took him a bit to puzzle out the 'pad', but it wasn't hard to sort, really, if a little awkward with boxers. (He'd have to figure out some sort of solution for the ones he made, but at least now he had an _idea_ of what he needed.) Better, it was less uncomfortable than the wad of toilet paper – which had done a reasonable job of soaking up the blood, and Ed somewhat jokingly saluted it as he flushed it down – and he felt a lot less awkward when he stepped back out.

"Better?" Hawkeye asked.

"Yeah." He cleared his throat and ducked his head a bit. "Thank you."

Hawkeye touched his left shoulder and, when Ed glanced up at her, he found her wearing that small, kind smile that almost suited her. "Anytime," she promised.

Ed...believed her. Pushed forward to hug her, and while she stiffened for a second, she returned the hug quickly enough that he didn't start thinking he'd overstepped.

Back in Mustang's office, the other soldiers took one look at Hawkeye, then set about their paperwork without saying a word. Mustang, himself, simply raised an eyebrow at Ed's less-exuberant-than-usual entrance, but didn't comment on it, instead accepting Ed's report and making one of the familiar comments about his handwriting.

At last, irritated with Mustang's usually smirky bastard-ness, Ed snapped, "You got anything else for me?"

Mustang opened his mouth, still smirking, but he was interrupted by Hawkeye stepping into the room with a small pile of paperwork. His shoulders slumped slightly, making _Ed_ smirk.

And then Hawkeye said, "Perhaps it's best if Edward takes a couple of days off, sir."

Ed just sort of stared at her, not certain if the rolling of his stomach was betrayal or _what_.

Mustang's gaze flicked between Ed and Hawkeye twice, before he sighed and leant back in his chair. "It's been a while since you visited Resembool, I believe?"

"Yeah, so?" Ed snapped, crossing his arms tight over his chest.

Mustang's mouth twitched. "Given the lack of broken doors, I can only assume you've done _something_ to your leg. Best to get it looked at."

"Grandmothers, I've heard, tend to be rather deep wells of wisdom," Hawkeye added a bit blandly, then dropped the pile of papers directly in front of Mustang, who's brief befuddled expression twisted into a grimace. "These need to be signed by the end of the day, sir."

This was...Hawkeye's way of telling Ed to talk to Granny? Actually _listen_ this time when she explained all that girl stuff that he didn't want to fucking deal with, but it appeared he wouldn't be given a choice.

It _had_ been a while, and he'd already told Al they should pay a visit. It wouldn't be fair to get his brother's hopes up like that and then just shrug and forget about it, would it?

"Dismissed, Fullmetal," Mustang said as he picked up the paper on the top of the pile Hawkeye had just dropped in front of him. "I don't expect to see you for at least week."

A week's worth of leave? Or more, if he felt he needed it? Mustang was feeling unusually charitable, wasn't he?

"Yeah, yeah," he tossed back over a shoulder as he turned to leave. "Don't wanna be here, lookin' at your old-man wrinkles, anyway."

Mustang mostly managed to muffle whatever noise he'd made in response, but Ed still heard just enough to know he'd won that round. For once.

As he passed his brother, Ed knocked a fist against his chest plate and said, "C'mon. Gotta do a bit of shopping before we catch the train back to Granny's."

"Okay, Brother," Al agreed cheerfully, and Ed knew he'd made the right choice in deciding to visit them after all.

-0-

As careless as Ed could sometimes be, he usually managed to avoid hospital stays. Or, at least, be conscious enough to convince Al that he would be fine with just a few plasters or a trip to Resembool. The reason – or a variation on the reason – was currently standing next to his bed with a clipboard and a sever look, while Ed did his best to slump so his unbound chest wasn't as obvious under the thin hospital shirt. (At least he'd lucked out, so far, and his chest had remained small. Or, well, small as compared to Winry, who was the only real comparison he'd ever had.)

"Miss Elric–" the nurse started.

" _Mister_ ," Ed snarled, giving her his best glare.

Her stare was flat and unimpressed. " _Miss_ Elric," she repeated, and Ed wanted to scream, "you have minor cuts on your left side, left shoulder, right temple, and left cheek. Your abdomen is also badly bruised. It is highly recommended that you _remain in bed_."

"Fine," Ed muttered, as if he couldn't tell that he would just hurt himself more if he got out of bed. Anyway, it wasn't like he could _do_ anything with his arm busted. Which, actually... "Could I get a sling for my arm?" he pointed at the automail to show what he meant.

The nurse stared at him for a long moment, as though expecting to find bad intentions written across his face, before finally giving a quick nod. "Fine. I'll go find one and let those soldiers who admitted you in." Then she turned to leave.

"Soldiers?" Ed repeated, confused and trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. There had been soldiers? Who? What did they know?

And where the fuck was Al? Please let him be okay.

The nurse didn't respond to his inquiry, just left the room, holding the door open for a reluctant Second Lieutenant Ross and Sergeant Brosh.

His stomach bottomed out somewhere down by his toes, and Ed made a desperate, one-armed attempt to cover his chest.

Brosh rather obviously took a deep breath, then put on a bright smile and stepped fully inside the room. "Edward!" he called in greeting, and Ed couldn't help the way his shoulders loosened in relief as Brosh continued, "It's good to see you're finally awake!"

Ross was trailing after Brosh, looking uncertain, but Brosh was still smiling, and Ed focussed on him as he asked, "Where am I?"

"This is a clinic run by a friend of Second Lieutenant Ross. We thought it would be best not to take you to a military hospital, in case they started asking questions about the lab explosion."

 _Explosion?!_

"You can stay here until you're well, sir."

"Ma'am," Ross corrected, and something like ice shivered down Ed's spine.

"I'm a _boy_ ," he snapped, scowling at her.

Ross stared back at him, her expression tight with some emotion Ed couldn't read. "With all due respect, _ma'am_ –"

"Lieutenant," Brosh tried, sounding strained.

"–your appearance suggests otherwise."

Ed wanted to _scream_. He _hated_ his body, hated that other people went around making fucking _assumptions_ about him based on parts that _he didn't want_. And _nothing_ he said ever seemed to make a difference.

Where was _Al_?

"Sir?" Brosh called, and a hand lightly touched Ed's head. "Edward?"

 _Edward_. The name Mustang had given him; the one that Hawkeye always used; the one that meant 'you are _male_ '.

"My name," he got out, and his voice was too fucking tight, giving away the angry – _angry_ , not ashamed; why did he always have to fight for his gender?! – tears he was doing his best to hold back, "is _Edward_ Elric. I. Am. A. _Boy_."

"Lieutenant," Brosh said, his hand still warm on Ed's head.

And Ed couldn't bring himself to look up, to watch whatever silent communication was passing between them, because _he didn't want to know_. He couldn't watch as someone he was actually, sort of growing to like, denied who he was. Just like Mum had.

There came the sound of military boots striking efficiently against the floor, and then the room door opened and closed.

"Edward?" Brosh said quietly, hand still on Ed's head. "Are you okay?"

Ed swallowed, wasn't sure if he was more grateful Brosh had stayed, or more hurt that Ross had left. "I'm fine," he said. _Lied_.

Brosh was quiet for a long moment, before he crouched down next to the bed, finally letting off Ed's head. He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable, then said, "Listen, sir. What we came in to say, really, was that, what you did? Disobeying Major Armstrong's order to stay put? That was stupid and reckless and you could have got both you and your brother _killed_."

Ed clenched his jaw because, _fuck_ , Brosh was _right_. He'd gone and fucking endangered Al _again_. And maybe Al had been on board the whole way, but _Ed_ was the elder brother, so it was _his_ job to keep them from doing stupid shit. And he'd _failed_.

"I know it might not seem like it, especially right now, but it's okay to trust adults sometimes."

Like Teacher – who would kill him if she ever found out what they'd done, but that was beside the point – and Mustang and Hawkeye. Like Brosh.

Ed swallowed and ducked his head a bit more, staring down at the too-obvious bumps under his hospital shirt. "I'm sorry," he whispered, hated how young he sounded. How much like a _little girl_.

Brosh was quiet for a moment, his uniform letting out quiet, shifting noises, before he lightly pressed his fist to the right side of Ed's face. "Just...don't do it again, okay? You got out alive this time, but that's not a guarantee."

"I know," Ed admitted, because he _did_. Because he'd given up his right arm in a desperate attempt to keep Al alive, and he'd have died when he faced Scar if it hadn't been for Mustang. And in the lab, fighting against those brothers...he'd been lucky. That was all.

Brosh's hand moved to rest lightly on his right shoulder, high enough up that Ed could just feel the touch. "Do you want to see if I can find you a bigger shirt?" he asked, sounding a little uncomfortable.

A bigger shirt?

Ed blinked as he realised what Brosh meant: A _baggier_ shirt. One that would hide his chest a bit better. "Yes, _please_ ," he breathed, finally looking up.

Brosh smiled at him. And it looked a little strained, but it wasn't disgusted or disapproving or anything. "I'll be right back, then," he promised, and pushed against the bed to stand.

"Sergeant?" Ed called after him before Brosh reached the door.

"Sir?" Brosh returned, looking back at him.

Ed shook his head at the continued 'sir'ing, even if it was...kinda nice. " _Thank_ you," he said, putting as much honestly and gratitude into the words as he could.

Brosh's smile wasn't even a little bit strained as he replied, "Any time." And Ed...

Believed him.

-0-

Sometimes, Winry was so cool about Ed being male, he forgot that she knew he had female parts. Which was probably what occurred to her when they were all standing outside the room Satella and Ridel were waiting in, and Winry had grabbed his arm. "Come on, Ed! I need your help."

"I can't go in there!" Ed shouted, trying to free himself before she could drag him through the door; being intrigued by Satella's pregnant belly didn't mean he wanted _any_ part in a birth!

Winry looked back at him, her eyes wide and still a little terrified. "Ed, _please_. I need someone I trust," she whispered.

Ed couldn't say no to that, and they both knew it. " _Fuck_ ," he snarled, yanking his arm away so he could shrug out of his jacket, leaving him in just his vest and binding. "Stay out here," he told Al, passing over his jacket.

Al nodded. "Uh-huh."

"You're such a pain," Ed muttered to Winry as he followed her into the room.

She flashed him a grateful smile, then turned toward the LeCoultes. "Ed's going to help," she explained.

When Satella and Ridel both shot him surprised looks, he put on his best reassuring smile and shrugged a bit helplessly, because there was no way he was explaining why Winry'd decided to ask a _boy_ to be her assistant.

And, _fuck_. It was weird and kinda creepy, but also a little bit cool. And Ed still had no interest in _ever_ being involved in another pregnancy, but, in the end, hearing the tiny baby give its first cry and seeing Satella and Ridel's wide, relieved smiles, sort of made it worth it, a bit.

As he carried Winry out, he muttered, "I can't believe you dragged me in there," even though it was clear from Paninya's reaction to seeing the blood after the fact, that Ed had been the best choice, gender notwithstanding.

"I'm sorry," Winry said against the back of his head. "I didn't really think about it, just..." She took a deep breath, then said, "I, uhm, I opened your watch and saw what was inside."

Ed dropped her.

"Hey!" Winry complained. "That–"

Ed turned on her and demanded, "You forced it open?!" Why would she _do_ something like that?!

Winry ducked her head. "I'm sorry," she whispered, just barely loud enough for him to hear. "I'm really sorry."

Ed squeezed his eyes shut and tamped down on the feeling of betrayal, reminding himself that, if their positions were reversed, he'd have done the same thing; him and Winry and Al had never really hidden anything from each other. At least, they hadn't until Ed had seen _that thing_ , and realised there were some things that he was better off keeping to himself.

"You idiot," he said with a sigh, reaching down a hand toward her, and he really couldn't tell which of the two of them he meant.

He helped her up and into the chair he'd been aiming to drop her into, then dropped into the one next to her, slouching and looking away as he admitted, "I've never even shown it to Al."

"Why not?" Winry asked quietly.

Ed shrugged a bit, then looked down at his feet stretched out ahead of him and quietly admitted, "The fact that I carry around this watch, to remind myself of the promise I made...to keep myself going... It makes me feel kinda...pathetic."

Winry was quiet for a long moment, before letting out a quiet sniffle.

"Why are you crying _this_ time?" Ed muttered, couldn't bring himself to look at her.

"You and Al never cry, so I'm crying for you."

"Boys don't cry," Ed shot back crossly.

"I know," Winry whispered, and Ed knew she got what he was really saying.

She was good at that.

-0-

Ed parted ways with Breda and Armstrong in town, then turned toward Granny's house, side-tracking to make a stop past the graveyard and pass on the Ishvalans' gratitude to Auntie Sarah and Uncle Yuriy's graves. But, standing in front of Mum's grave was a person who, as Ed got closer, he started to recognise.

Heart climbing his throat, he rounded the man he hadn't seen in a _decade_ and choked out, "Van Hohenheim!"

The bastard blinked at him, then said, "Edith?"

Ed went tense all over, clenching his real fingers so tightly around the desert robes he'd brought back, they'd surely gone as white as the fabric. "That's not my _name_ ," he snarled.

Hohenheim blinked at him. "Trisha named you Edith. A beautiful name for a beautiful daughter," he added a bit quieter, looking back toward Mum's grave.

Ed's breath caught, torn between the sinking reminder of his mother's refusal to accept him as he was, and the constant ache of missing her, of wishing he had something – _anything_ – of her left.

He'd never known. No one had ever told him who'd picked the hated name, and he'd eventually set the blame on Hohenheim's shoulders, because he couldn't hate him any more than he already did. Except, apparently, it had been his mum's choice, and maybe he _could_ hate Hohenheim more, because there were some things he'd rather have never known.

"My name is _Ed_ ," he got out, somehow. Winry had given him that name, and Mustang had been the one to give him 'Edward', and there was something like laughter clawing at the back of his throat at the thought that _Mustang_ had named him better than his own _mother_. He swallowed it down, instead snapped, "What the fuck are you even _doing_ here, you _bastard_?!"

Hohenheim send him a wounded look. "How can you call your own _father_ a bastard?"

" _Father_?" Ed shot back, rage racing through his veins. "All you were good for was donating your genetic code and _leaving_! You don't _deserve_ to be called anything but what you are: A _bastard_! Why don't you just fucking _leave_ again; there's nothing here for you!"

Hohenheim looked past him, toward the hill where their house used to sit, and said, "That's right...my house. There's nothing left of it. Why did you burn it down?"

"I made up my mind never to go back," Ed muttered, couldn't quite bring himself to look at the bastard in front of him. "I don't need a place to go home to." He steeled himself and forced himself to look up at Hohenheim, not that the bastard returned the favour. "It's a symbol of our resolve."

"No, it's not," Hohenheim replied, his voice gone low and cold in a way that made Ed feel like he'd just been caught doing something _unspeakable_. "You did it because you didn't want to be reminded of your mistake!"

What? No, that–

Hohenheim turned to face him, then, mouth drawn in a flat line and eyes hidden behind the gleam of the setting sun on his glasses. "You wanted to escape from the painful memories. You thought you could erase all traces of your actions, didn't you? _Human transmutation_."

Ed opened his mouth, but his throat closed over any denials he might have made.

 _How did Hohenheim know?!_

"It's no different from a child who wets her bed, and then hides the sheets," Hohenheim continued, unforgiving. "You were _running away_ , Edith."

Bile climbed up Ed's throat and he spun away, somehow managed to snap, "Talking to you makes me _sick_!" before starting away.

"Didn't you come to visit your mother's grave?" Hohenheim called after him.

"Fuck you!" Ed shouted back, _hating him_. For throwing around that accursed name, and ruining Ed's memory of his mum, and just... _everything_.

It didn't take but a moment to realise he was being followed, and a quick glance back proved it was exactly who he'd known it would be. "Don't follow me!" he shouted at the bastard.

"You're going to Pinako's house, right?" Hohenheim replied, voice gone mild. "I'm going there, too. Seeing as how I have no home of my own to return to."

Ed grit his teeth and shoved his hands into his pockets, determined to just fucking _ignore_ the bastard.

"You should wear your hair down," Hohenheim said. "I'm sure it'll make you look very pretty."

Ed didn't think, just turned on his foot, right fist coming up and around to slam into whatever part of the bastard he could land a hit on.

Except Hohenheim wasn't in range, had stopped and was blinking at Ed like he couldn't believe he'd just tried to hit him. "Edith–"

"My. Name. Is. _Ed_!" Ed shouted, something horribly close to tears blurring his vision. "Edith never fucking _existed_! Why can't you _accept that_?!"

And then he turned and ran the rest of the way to Granny's, brushing past her concerned call of, "Ed?" and racing upstairs to the room she kept for him and Al. Where it wouldn't matter if he failed to hold back his tears, because the only one who would ever know was him, and he already knew he was a fucked up mess.

-0-

Ed tried, desperately, to ignore the agony of his broken ribs under his binding. He brushed off Ling's concerned look as he finished tying off the last of the pieces of the temporary splint for Ed's arm, but when he tried to stand, the world swam, and Ling catching him was probably the only thing that kept it from becoming _worse_.

"It is your lungs, is it not?" Ling whispered, and he sounded so fucking _concerned_.

Granny had made him promise, so many fucking times, that if he broke his fucking ribs, he would get rid of his binding while they healed. Ed had decided pretty early on, that if that ever happened, he'd just wear his binding until he made it to Resembool, where everyone already _knew_ , so there was no point in hiding his chest. But he'd managed to keep from damaging any ribs since he'd started binding his chest, so he'd never had to worry about it, never realised that, actually, maybe Granny had something about that not binding thing.

But _still_. He couldn't just...let it all hang out around Envy and Ling! Al or Winry, sure, they'd seen Ed unbound plenty of times before. And Mustang or Hawkeye seeing would be...uncomfortable, but not... He would manage. They knew, at least, and he was pretty sure Mustang had enough sense not to make a fuss about it. But Envy was his enemy! And Ling was...Ling.

" _Ed_ ," Ling called, sounding more than a little freaked out.

Ed shook his head and straightened, wincing as his chest spiked with pain. He didn't have a fucking _choice_ , clearly, and he _hated_ his body for pulling this shit on him. No way he could bend well enough to undo the binding the normal way, and his broken arm made that something of an impossibility, anyway. So. "Do you still have that sword?" he asked Ling, and his voice was actually kind of disturbingly airy. (Was he wheezing? _Fuck_. No _wonder_ Ling was freaking out.)

"Yeah," Ling agreed, sounding uncertain. "But I don't know what that–"

"Oh? Trouble, Fullmetal Alchemist?" Envy said in that irritating mocking tone of his. Its. (What gender even _was_ Envy?)

"Just get the sword, Ling," Ed hissed, gritting his teeth against the pain of his ribs.

Ling nodded and, after making certain Ed wasn't about to fall over – he really kinda _was_ a good friend; Ed hoped he didn't lose him over this – ran to collect the _really fucking cool, thanks_ sword.

Envy let out an obnoxious hum and made a show of plopping its ugly arse down in the sea of blood, clearly intending to watch the unfolding drama.

Ed glared at it, but couldn't pretend to be surprised when that didn't move Envy in the least. Fucker.

"Okay," Ling said as he returned with the sword.

Ed nodded and grabbed the gun Hawkeye had given him out of the back of his trousers, wincing as his ribs informed him that had been a terrible idea. "Under my shirt," he said tightly, "there's binding. Cut it off."

" _Binding_?" Ling repeated, even as he stepped up to Ed's back and lifted his shirt. "If you take your shirt off–" he started, but Ed immediately shook his head, because no _fucking_ way he was gonna be naked around _either_ of them. "Okay," Ling muttered, and lifted Ed's shirt in the back high enough to reach the top of the binding, then cool metal slid downward against Ed's back, and he did his damnedest to _not move_.

The binding coming loose was a breath of fresh air. Or, well, a _full_ breath of air, and Ed gasped it in a bit greedily as he gingerly pulled the binding out from under his shirt and let it drop to the ground at his feet.

Envy, the _fucker_ , let out a cackle. "What's this? The pipsqueak's a _girl_!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Ed snarled, even as he subconsciously pressed his automail arm against the ugly protrusions on his chest, flattening them as much as his aching ribs could stand. "I'm a _boy_ , you ugly freak!"

Envy reared back a bit and snapped, "What did you just call me, you–"

"Hey!" Ling interrupted, getting between them and pointing his sword at Envy. "Do you want to get out of this place, or bicker?"

Envy scoffed and turned away. "I'm going," it said, clearly irritated, before moving off.

"Ed?" Ling asked, turning back to him.

Ed forced his arm away from his chest so he could shove the gun away at the small of his back again. "Don't," he whispered, couldn't really say _what_ he didn't want Ling doing. Asking about his chest, or his reaction, or his gender, or–

Ling was quiet for a couple breaths, then he said, in that cheerful tone that Ed was beginning to recognise was forced, "You are breathing better, at least! That is a relief."

"Yeah," Ed muttered, and stepped past him to crouch down in front of the stone piece with the lion eating the sun, the one that had sparked his idea for how to get out: Human transmutation, using Envy's Stone to pay the toll. All he had to do was transmute himself, slingshot him – and Ling and Envy – through the real Portal of Truth to their world. Parts of his body were already sitting before his Portal, and that should help act as a guide. He hoped.

If not, well, they were all doomed anyway.

 _However_.

Ed took a careful breath and gently touched his automail hand to the protrusions on his chest.

Human transmutation. Transmuting someone already alive. The safest bet would be to deconstruct and reconstruct himself exactly as he currently was. _But_ , he could also fix himself. It shouldn't be _that_ hard to rearrange his wrong body into something _right_. Envy's Stone would supply any knowledge he lacked, and the excess energy needed.

But, could he validate using human souls for that?

Could he potentially endanger Ling for his own gain?

Granny and Winry and Al would all yell as soon as he told them what he'd done. And Teacher would just flat-out kill him if she ever found out.

But there it was, in his grasp, the one thing he wanted more than _anything_ : _He could be a boy._ All of him. Undeniably.

Was it worth the risks?

.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** _Skin Deep_  
 **Fandom:** _Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood_ /manga  
 **Author:** Batsutousai  
 **Rating:** Mature  
 **Warnings:** Ed's potty mouth, transboy!Ed, transphobia  & trans erasure, gender dysphoria, support where you least expect it, hurt/comfort, menstruation talk, unwanted advances, canon typical violence  
 **Summary:** Trisha and Van's first child, Edith, was born a beautiful, healthy girl. The only problem? Ed knew he was a boy.

 **A/N:** I have learnt so much more about bras and breast-binding during the turn of the 20th century, for this fic, than I ever really cared to. ^^;  
That said, corsets were more the thing until the flappers of the 20s, but, for the sake of my own sanity – I cannot, in good conscious, let Ed bind unsafely, historical accuracy be damned; blame the Rockbells' medical background on the deviation, if you need to – I'm bringing forward some of that lingerie. (Don't get me started on hunting down information on what fabrics were readily and cheaply accessible then, and translating that into the less technologically advanced Amestris. Fuck's sake, I hate this fandom's timeline. I need to write more modern AUs just for the sake of my researching madness. XP)

While the first chapter had a reread before it was posted, this chapter has NOT. In fact, I finished it this morning after staying up way too fucking late, and am posting it pretty much as soon as I get up so.

-0-  
Chapter Two  
-0-

Envy'd made some joke about them being 'presentable' or whatever bullshit, with a pointed look at Ed's chest, then led them up into one of the shower rooms in Central Command, which was apparently right on top of the 'Father' guy's home base.

Envy hadn't tried coming in with them, at least, and while Ed didn't care if his brother saw him naked – they'd bathed together as kids, for fuck's sake – Al was always super obvious about turning away as soon as Ed made like he was going to undress.

Rolling his eyes a bit, Ed shucked off his bloodied clothing and tossed it toward the rubbish bin, then stepped into one of the stalls and turned on the water. Once it was a reasonable temperature – he'd learnt a long time ago not to be too fussy about military showers, because they just always sucked – he grabbed the bar of soap to start cleaning himself, and started telling Al about his little adventure in Gluttony's stomach, focussing on the fact that he'd seen his brother's body. Which certainly got Al excited, and seemed to distract him for a bit from any of the rest of it.

Of course, then Al realised, "Through the portal. That requires human transmutation, Brother."

Ed swallowed and turned off the water. "Well, yeah. Had to transmute something to get us out."

Al was quiet for a moment, utterly unmoving, while Ed grabbed his towel and started patting himself dry. Finally, Al quietly asked, "You didn't fix yourself?"

Ed swallowed and looked down at the wretched lumps of fat on his chest and tried to sound flippant when he said, "Of course not! Too much risk."

"I wouldn't have blamed you, if you had," Al offered quietly. He didn't really sound happy, though, and Ed couldn't tell if it was at the prospect of Ed using a philosopher's stone to fix himself, or that he hadn't taken the chance when he had it.

Either way, Ed somehow managed to get out a quiet, "Yeah," and ducked his head into the stream of water, so he could blame any wetness on his face on that.

When he finally got out of the shower and started going through the civilian clothing Envy had pulled out for him, he came up against a slight problem: "No binding."

"Brother?" Al called, the echo of his voice saying he was still turned away from him.

"There's–" Ed swallowed and glanced down at his chest, then started looking around, calculating necessary materials. "My binding. I had to leave it in Gluttony."

"Can you transmute something?" Al immediately asked, because he got how much Ed hated going around with his chest unbound.

He had plenty of fabric, since the clothing he'd been left was all a bit large, and he didn't _need_ the black vest, only really stuck with it because it was one more piece of fabric that would hide his binding, and usually tight enough not to catch on anything in a fight and rip off.

That said, he didn't have quite the _right sort_ of fabric, and he was unlikely to find a sufficient store of rubber to make something even vaguely like his usual binding.

When he'd been shopping out with Winry that first time, they'd found a couple designs that didn't quite flatten as much as what he'd settled on, but also hadn't required any elasticity, and Ed was fairly certain he could transmute something a little like one of those, so he said, "I think so," then picked out the black vest from the pile and clapped his hands.

He didn't have the chance to look over the completed product, because the door opened before the light died down, and Envy called, "You'd best not be trying to escape, little girl."

Ed grabbed the nearest thing to hand – a bar of soap – and spun to chuck it at the fucker, shouting, "I'm a _boy_!"

Al was halfway to a standing position when he let the soap loose, however, and it bounced off his back, even as he firmly said, "My brother is getting dressed. We'll be out shortly, so please leave."

The door clicked closed again, and Ed took a moment to gasp in a breath, trying to calm himself, only to stop as he found the weird little black and white cat that belonged to that Xingan girl standing on the tiles in front of him.

"Alphonse," he said, keeping eye contact because he didn't trust the cat not to bite him, "what is the cat doing here?"

Al shifted loudly, then admitted, "I've got the little girl inside me."

Ed managed to bite back a loud ' _what_?!' because he didn't really want to deal with Envy's shitty sense of humour any more. But his expression, as he looked up at Al, made his feelings on the matter perfectly clear. He hoped.

Al was hunched about as much as he could be in the armour, and Ed could almost see the chastised expression he'd be wearing, if he could. "She's hurt," he mumbled.

Ed sighed and turned back to his clothing, picking up the transmuted binding and giving it a quick look-over. It wouldn't be as good as his usual, but it would serve, so he let his towel drop – ignoring Al's vaguely scandalised " _Brother_!" – and slipped it on, then set about doing up the ties as best he could.

Al sighed right before his hollow steps sounded on the tile, and his hands gently knocked Ed's away from the ties. "Here, tell me if it's too tight."

But Ed knew his own size pretty much perfectly, so it laced up just right. Once Al'd stepped back with a quiet, "Done," he quickly stepped into his boxers and trousers, then shrugged on the button-up shirt. While he did up the buttons – far more of them than he'd usually do, to help disguise the vest-turned-binding – and stepped into his boots, Al braided his hair for him, and Ed flashed him a grateful grin once his damp hair thumped back against his shirt.

"Come on, before Envy comes in again," Al said.

Ed felt his face twist with rage, and he ducked down to grab the jacket as he snarled, "I'm gonna chuck far worse than _soap_ at the fucker if it keeps calling me a _girl_."

"I know, Brother," Al said in his best soothing tone, and Ed kept his head down just to keep from glaring at him; he knew Al was just trying to get him to calm down and not make a scene, but that didn't keep it from feeling like he was being placated like a child in the wrong.

Scuffing his feet against the floor with every step, Ed led the way out of the showers. And if he kept his head down to keep from having to see Envy's smirk, well. At least Al would approve.

-0-

It appeared that Ed was making a habit of waking up in non-military clinics without his binding, and with no sign of Al. It was a habit he really needed to figure out how to break. Like, months ago, because this was _not cool_.

However, unlike the time following their failure in lab five, Ed didn't have to wait for a nurse to come in to explain where he was, because one of Kimblee's chimeras – the blond one with the moustache and glasses – was sitting next to his bed, and him straightening as soon as Ed opened his eyes drew his attention.

"Kid's awake!" the blond called.

An older woman, hair almost as grey as Granny's, stepped into the room with a smile, while the blond got up, clearly intending to leave. "Greetings, young miss," the woman said.

"Mister," Ed corrected as flatly as he could manage, because it was that or scream, and his abdomen – which was already burning, even though he hadn't moved at all; whatever drugs they'd given him had probably only just worn off – was making a rather pointed case for a more mild manner.

The chimera paused at his correction, then hurried past the curtain serving as a door, clearly uninterested in taking part in the conversation. (Ed was absolutely with him.)

The woman eyed him for a moment, her gaze uncomfortably piercing.

And then she shrugged, squinting her eyes in the same way Ling always did, and agreed, "Young mister. I'm Anise, and my husband's Doctor Andrew Richardson; this is our clinic, in North City. That young man and his companion brought you in saying you'd taken a steel beam to the gut, but you'd managed to seal it with alchemy. Do you remember any of that?"

Ed swallowed, his head spinning a bit. Not in a dizzy way, thankfully, more like a little bit of confusion. Or a _lot_ of confusion; that had been a far simpler battle than he was used to having with medical sorts. "I– Y-yes. I mean, the beam, and alchemising the wound closed, but I don't–"

"You were out cold when you got here," she said briskly, stepping around the bed he was lying on. "Been in and out of consciousness the past day or so. You apparently said something rather nasty to the other young man last night, so be prepared to sort that out later. Let me take a look at your wound."

Ed gingerly moved his arm out of her way, granting her access to his side, and she politely pulled the blanket and his borrowed shirt out of the way just enough to get at the bandaging, almost like she understood how freaked out Ed was about being naked around unfamiliar people. She was careful, but efficient, about pulling away the bandaging, so Ed only winced once, briefly, when it pulled at a bit of dried blood.

The wound was...ugly. A massive lump of a scab plastered to his abdomen, the skin around it an angry red. It had clearly pulled a few times, bits of dried blood staining his skin and the bandaging where it had leaked out.

"Well," Ed managed, his throat feeling dry, "that looks like shit."

The woman grunted, turning away with the bloodied bandaging, toward a small table that Ed was just now noticing next to his bed, which had a glass of water and replacement bandaging on it. "It's better than it could be," she informed him, and Ed had to give her that; he could always be dead. "And you haven't developed an infection, despite having been carried through mine shafts to get here."

Mine shafts? Oh, actually, that made sense; the two chimeras wouldn't have wanted to show themselves to the Briggs troops, most probably, assuming they'd even have been able to find a way up in Baschool, so travelling back east and south, to North City, would have been the best choice, especially if they'd needed to find a doctor for Ed.

Which, honestly, _why_? Why not just _leave him_? Wouldn't that have been safer for them? Leave the deadweight behind, hope the Briggs soldiers found him and got him to hospital before he froze. It wasn't like the two _owed_ him anything! They'd been enemies only moments before, and getting the beam out of his gut had more than paid off him lifting the debris off of them.

He had a vague memory of being lifted onto the lion guy's back and breathing in his hair. Mane. Whatever. And maybe a promise to be his legs?

Everything after getting the beam out was kind of fuzzy. (Honestly, everything after the shaft collapsed was kind of fuzzy, save the moment he used his own soul to heal himself; he wasn't likely to _ever_ forget that sensation.)

The woman – Anise, she said her name was? – turned back to him with a wet cloth, which she gently laid over the scab. Granny had done something similar to the scabs on his arm and leg, to help soften them, keep them from pulling as much every time he shifted, so he didn't bother worrying about it, instead asking, "How long?"

"You've been here for about five days," she replied calmly, turned away again to fuss with preparing some fresh bandaging.

Five days?

Five _days_?!

"Kimblee!" he remembered, icy panic flooding through his veins. Al and Winry didn't know Kimblee was following them! He needed to–!

A firm hand was pushing against his sternum – with far more strength than he would have expected – before he could rise more than an inch. "Lie down," Anise said, everything about her manner reminding him of Granny when she was furious with him.

Ed lay back, raising his hands in a show of surrender. "My brother's in danger," he tried, in hopes she'd understand why he needed to _leave_.

"You're in no shape to go to him," she replied flatly, because she was clearly heartless. "You'll probably rip your wound right back open before you make it three blocks, and be dead before you make the city limits, and _then_ where will you be? _Dead_."

Ed scrunched his head down a bit, in turns angry and ashamed. Because she was right, he _knew_ he needed time to heal, or he'd just make it worse, but _Al and Winry_!

"If you try to get up again, we'll sedate you," Anise informed him in that same sort of no nonsense tone that Granny always used when Ed did something unbelievably stupid.

"Yes'm," Ed mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

She let out a grunt that was clearly intended to get across how much she _didn't_ believe he'd given up, and set about removing the damp cloth and re-bandaging the wound.

Which, actually, that reminded Ed, "What about my back?"

She cast him a considering look. "Can you turn over without help?"

Ed carefully shifted, bit his tongue at the pull of healing skin, then nodded. "Yeah," he managed in a voice that was only a little rough with pain.

She eyed him for a long moment, gaze assessing, then nodded. "Carefully," she cautioned.

Ed snorted, because he wasn't _that_ stupid, thanks, and began carefully turning himself over, teeth clenched against the pain the whole way.

Still wasn't as bad as automail surgery, he told himself once he was lying on his front. Which was kind of a shitty standard to hold wounds to, but it was all about the mental reassurance that he'd had worse and so he'd get through this scrape, too. Or so he told himself.

Anise saw to the second wound with the same gentle efficiency as she had the first, and Ed had mostly recovered his strength by the time she was done, so he took a deep breath and turned back over. (As much as he liked being able to hide his chest by lying on his front, he couldn't see the door or drink or eat that way. Dammit.)

"Are you hungry?" she asked once Ed was on his back again, his shirt and blanket back in their respective places.

"Not...really," Ed decided, grimacing a bit, because he knew he _needed_ to eat, to keep his strength up – not to mention just in case he was also sort of feeding Al's body – but all the moving about had skyrocketed the pain of his side, and that wiped out any chance of hunger. That said... "Is there soup?"

Anise's smile was approving as she nodded. "I'll find some," she promised, then turned to leave the room. Just before she brushed the curtain aside, she glanced back and asked, "Should I send you companions back in?"

Companions? Oh, the chimeras.

He shrugged, because he didn't really care. He was feeling a little tired, he supposed, after all that exertion, but asking the two about why they'd helped him and stuck around might help him stay up long enough to eat. Or he could nap and hope Anise woke him when whatever soup she found was ready. (Given Granny's policy had always been to let him sleep and just reheat the food when he woke up next, and Anise reminded him way too much of Granny, he suspected he'd be best off staying up if he wanted food.)

In the end, the chimeras _did_ come in, both looking a little uncertain and keeping their distance from the bed as much as they could in the small patient room.

Ed felt a little like he'd just swallowed a shit-tonne of stones, and he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. "The fuck didn't you just leave me in that mineshaft, you fucking morons?" he demanded.

The one with brown hair crossed his own arms over his chest, mouth twisting into a rather impressive scowl. "You saved our lives, kid. We're just returning the favour."

"Fine," Ed returned flatly. "Favour returned. The fuck're you still here for, then? Why not just piss off soon as you'd dropped me here?"

"How fucking heartless do you think we are, you little shit?" the brunet demanded, unfolding his arms and taking a step forward.

The blond grabbed his arm, hissing, " _Darius_."

The brunet crossed his arms back over his chest with a snarl, pretty obviously retreating.

" _Do not_ –" Ed started as he tried to push himself into a sitting position, only to stop when fire raced through his gut, overpowering the rage at the fucker using the 'l' word.

And then the blond was there, gently pushing one way-too-large hand against Ed's shoulder. "Lay back down, kid. You're in no state to be getting up."

Ed really wanted to tell him where he could shove that bullshit, except his body was agreeing with the fucker, so he gave in and lay back down. Still, he managed to hiss out an irritated, "I'm not _little_!"

"Not little. Not a girl. Anything else you're not?" the brunet asked flatly.

"Not gonna hold back when I punch you in the fucking _face_!" Ed shouted. And, if not for the blond's hand on his shoulder, still, he'd have tried to get up again.

"Darius," the blond said again, followed by a heavy sigh.

The brunet very pointedly turned away.

The blond sighed again, and he was looking down at Ed with tired eyes when he glanced up at him. "You don't leave a man when he's down," he stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Whatever we may be, now, that's not going to change."

"You can't say that like it's common fucking sense," Ed muttered, looking down at his crossed arms over his chest, flesh and steel. "Plenty in the military think it's the smart thing to save themselves."

"We're not that sort." The blond's fingers curled over Ed's shoulder, like he was squeezing it in a show of companionship, or some shit. "Kimblee was, but–"

Ed's gaze jerked up and around at the mention of the psychopath, and something in his eyes had the blond shutting up. " _Kimblee_ ," he hissed, rage and terror filling him in equal measure, "is after my brother. And instead of fucking going after him–"

"You. Passed. Out," the brunet interrupted, and he didn't flinch from Ed's glare, met it head-on, like he thought he was _right_. "You weren't in any state to be protecting or warning anyone, and you said yourself you needed a doctor. So we found you a doctor."

"Look, kid," the blond called, and Ed looked back up at him, feeling a little lost and still so _angry_ , "if it helps, there was a brief note in the paper, a couple days ago, that said you and your brother were both missing. Got lost in a blizzard while on military business."

"Al too?" Ed breathed, relief rushing through him, because if they weren't trying to dangle Al or Winry in front of him to get him to pop out, that meant–

"Him, too," the blond agreed, gently squeezing his shoulder.

–they were safe. They'd managed to evade Kimblee. Or – more likely – Scar'd taken one look at Kimblee and done his anti-State Alchemists spiel, and now Kimblee was dead.

That was one funeral Ed would happily attend, just to throw a fucking _party_ at.

"That's...good. Awesome," Ed said, relaxing back against his pillow. "Great."

The blond squeezed his shoulder one last time, then pulled away. "We should let you rest."

"Wait," Ed requested, reaching out with his hand and stopping just before he could grab the guy's shirt, a little weirded out by that reaction. "What– I don't...know your names?"

"Ah." The blond turned back toward him, absently pushing the bridge of his glasses up with one finger. Not _quite_ the same as Hughes had done, but close enough to send a pang of reminder through Ed's chest. "I am Heinkel Potez."

"Darius Wright," the brunet offered flatly, once Heinkel motioned pointedly at him.

"Ed," Ed offered – he assumed he didn't need to do a proper introduction, or anything – as he folded his arms back over his chest.

Darius cast him an odd look, then shrugged and stepped from the room.

"Sorry about Darius," Heinkel offered quietly. "He's been a bit off since he sat with you last night."

"Anise said I'd said something nasty to him, I guess?" Ed said, shrugged a bit uncomfortably.

Heinkel shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe you talk in your sleep."

As he left, holding the curtain aside for Anise on the way, a lance of ice went down Ed's spine, and it was all he could do to swallow past the lump of _something_ lodged in his throat.

He wasn't certain he wanted to know what he might have said.

-0-

As soon as Ed was declared strong enough, he left to get himself some food that was more filling than soup and bread and vegetables. He had to go out without any sort of binding, though, because Anise and her husband, Dr Richardson, had been quite firm in telling him _no binding_. For at _least_ another month. Not even one of the little ones that _only_ covered his chest, like he'd made after getting stuck in Gluttony. He'd got fed some bullshit line about healthy growth and how he _never knew_ what might happen to his 'delicate, newly-grown skin' if he wore something that tight.

He was, however, allowed a _brassiere_ , which he'd wasted no time in 'losing' under the bed; no fucking _way_ he was wearing one of those gross girl things! Anyway, you'd think that shit would put the same sort of strain on his still-healing skin as binding, so fuck that shit.

So he went out without anything under his shirt, and briefly attempted to find some binding, before having to give up on account of his stomach.

Of course, once he'd left the grocery with his bag of delicious, it occurred to him that he'd never have been able to afford both binding _and_ the food, which fucking _sucked_. He debated, briefly, stopping over somewhere to turn something he was wearing into some binding, but since he was intending to just go back to the clinic, and it would probably be confiscated as soon as Anise saw him, it wasn't worth it.

Next time, he promised himself, he'd remember to grab a spare shirt or bandaging or something and transmute it once he was out of the building. _Should've_ done so that time, if he'd been thinking like a sane person, instead of salivating at the thought of real food.

Once he got back to the clinic building, though, he found the military parked outside, and his guard immediately went up.

He could run for it, just go after Al and forget about the chimeras and the doctors.

He couldn't do that.

He could maybe wait them out?

But what if Darius lost his temper, like he did way too often without Ed even _trying_ , and a firefight broke out?

Ed squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath; he'd never been a coward before, and he wasn't going to start being one _now_.

He yanked a meat kabob out of his bag and shoved it into his mouth, then resettled his bag in his left arm, giving him plenty of manoeuvrability with his automail, and protecting the most tender part of his abdomen, then made his way into the building without looking at the military car parked outside.

There was a soldier stationed outside the door to the clinic, and Ed slowed as he approached him, asking around his kabob, "What're you soldiers doin' 'ere?"

"We're looking for someone," the soldier replied, clearly finding nothing suspicious about Ed, and he couldn't say if that was because his hair was down, or because there were fairly obvious lumps of gross on his chest, which his shirt didn't quite manage to hide. "Have you seen anyone _suspicious_ coming and going from this building recently?"

Ed _almost_ pointed out he was _talking_ to someone suspicious, but insulting the military was hardly going to get him intel, so he resisted the urge, instead mumbling, "Suspicious? Don't fink so. What'd they look like?" around his kabob.

The soldier pulled out a little slip of paper. "Uh... Right. He's got a red coat, long blond hair usually worn in a braid, very short–"

Ed...didn't really have any say over the way his leg came up and slammed between the fucker's legs, because he was _not_ _ **short**_!

The guy bowed forward, his face twisting with agony, and Ed slammed his automail elbow against the back of his head, knocking him out cold and sending him to the floor.

"What was that?!" someone shouted from inside the clinic.

The door opened and a new military guy holding a gun stepped out. He was immediately distracted by his fallen comrade, dropping to his knees in front of him and pulling him up to shake him awake, calling, "Who did this to you?! Harris!"

Ed stepped up next to the guy, and he managed one terrified holler, before Ed knocked him out.

From the panicked shouting inside the clinic, there was only one guy left, so Ed slipped inside, dodged around Heinkel – who let out a near-silent sigh – then punched through the wall at about the spot the guy was standing, judging by how he'd peeked around the doorway, and choked him until he stopped making gurgling noises.

Darius said something to himself, a little too quiet for Ed to hear under the sound of the body slumping to the floor and the bed creaking. And then, louder, Darius said, "Don't be so reckless! You're still recovering, remember?"

Ed stepped into the doorway, snarling, "Don't treat me like I'm a fucking weak-arse _girl_!"

Darius made a show of rolling his eyes while he shoved his gun away at the back of his trousers. "Because you're really the picture of masculinity."

"You wanna fight?!" Ed shouted, balling his automail into a fist.

"Save it for later, you two," Heinkel ordered, catching Ed's right shoulder in his abnormally large hand. "We need to get out of here before the reinforcements arrive."

"Fuckin' military," Ed muttered at the same time as Darius grumbled, "Fucking reinforcements."

Heinkel sighed. "Coats, and grab anything you can't live without. Let's go."

Ed glanced into the patient room, determined he had everything he needed on his person, then joined the chimeras in leaving the clinic. While Heinkel collected more weapons and bullets from the fallen soldiers, Ed picked up the piece of paper the first guard had been reading off of. "Red coat and a braid, huh?" he mumbled around the bread he'd shoved in his mouth as he'd stepped out of the clinic. He glanced at the fall of his hair over the shoulder of his white coat and shrugged. "Guess I'll keep this look for a while."

Which was about when the reinforcements showed up, and Ed got 'held hostage' so they could retreat without getting shot at. Darius stole a car, which Ed then transmuted once they'd turned a corner, to hide them from their pursuers.

Once he'd been talked into changing the car back – _lame_ – and they were on their way out of the city, Heinkel turned back to look at him and commented in a carefully mild tone, "They're going to be after us again, and now they've got Darius and my descriptions, which means we can't run errands any more."

Ed waved the slip of paper he'd picked up at that. "Whatever. They're looking for my coat and braid; so long as I stick with the white coat and tie my hair up different, they're not gonna spot me."

"You know what's an even _better_ disguise, Mr Fullmetal Alchemist?"

"Cutting my hair?" Ed suggested, while Heinkel sighed in that way that meant he regretted _everything_.

Darius caught his eyes in the rear-view mirror and said, "You going around as a girl."

"No," Ed said, keeping his tone as flat as he could. "Not a fucking chance. 'M not a fucking girl, and I'm not gonna run around playing one."

"It's not a...terrible disguise," Heinkel said a bit gingerly. "And you're already–" he coughed, clearly uncomfortable "–equipped."

" _No_."

"I heard the doc, you know," Darius commented, a gleam of victory in his eyes. "No flattening yourself for a month."

"That's just some fucking bullshit attempt to make me into a fucking _girl_!" Ed snarled, crossing his arms over his ugly chest as tight as he could; half to hide the protrusions growing there, half to keep himself from throttling the smug fucker, because he was driving and Ed didn't really wanna deal with an accident. "Arsehole medical fuckers pull that shit on me all the fucking time!"

"You really want to chance it?" Heinkel pressed.

" _Yes_!" Ed shouted. "I'd rather get another fucking beam in my gut than play some fucking _girl_!"

"Heinkel," Darius cautioned as Heinkel opened his mouth again.

Heinkel subsided and they fell into silence.

Ed drooped against the back bench, feeling way too fucking drained, and hating how much he'd probably just revealed to the two arseholes.

Whatever. Nothing he could do to brush it off any more.

-0-

Ed's plans to find Al at the hideout Mustang'd shown them in the Central City outskirts turned up no sign of his brother, but they _did_ find Ling. Greed. Whoever.

The one problem Ed hadn't really foreseen with travelling with guys who weren't Al, was dealing with their weird, fucked-up sexual bullshit. Like, just because there were lumps of fat on his chest and his privates didn't dangle, meant he needed a fucking room or tent to himself. Which, given, the extra space was nice, if a little lonely, but it had the unfortunate side effect of Greed asking _why_ the chimeras insisted Ed get his own room.

"Because the kid's got a chick's body," Darius had said, so _fucking_ carelessly.

(Ed suspected it was payback for outing him and Heinkel as chimeras to Greed when they'd first met up.)

Greed, of course, had then turned to Ed with a considering look, and he opened his mouth and–

His face froze for a moment, then softened into an apology. "I'm sorry, Ed," said what was _clearly_ Ling, because he was way more likely to apologise.

And then Ling's face froze again, before twisting with irritation. "Fucking _prince_ ," he growled, before turning back to Ed and giving him a _very obvious_ look down, then back up, his smile widening into something that sent chills down Ed's spine.

"Leave the kid alone," Heinkel ordered, one of his way-too-big hands coming to rest on Ed's left shoulder, while Darius sort of shifted to the side a bit, more behind Ed that he had been.

"It sounds," Greed practically _purred_ , "like someone needs to discover the pleasures of their female form."

Ed remembered Hawkeye telling him to punch anyone who tried pushing him into sex with his automail, so he stepped forward, shaking off Heinkel's hand, and said, "I'm sorry, too, Ling," then slammed his fist into Greed's face as hard as he could.

Greed stumbled back a step, his eyes gone a bit wide, and red energy sparking across his face as bones reformed.

"Every time you try a fucking line like that," Ed promised, clenching his fists as tight as he could and hoping they weren't shaking, "I will punch you in the fucking face. You fucking touch me, I'll rip your hand off. You call me a fucking _girl_ or start in about women shit, I'll break your fucking male pride. Clear?"

Greed straightened, a line of blood leading from one nostril to his lips. "I do love them feisty," he said with a wide, horrible grin.

Ed punched him again, then followed up with a roundhouse kick, just to give him some extra time to turn and walk away, slipping through the space between the chimeras, which was just _barely_ big enough for him.

They didn't move as he walked away, so far as he could tell, though he was fairly certain he heard someone cracking their knuckles. Assuming that wasn't something Ed had broken for Greed reforming.

That night on, Ed no longer got a room or tent to himself, but he also never bunked with Greed. And, weirdly, he trusted his chimera roommate was enough to keep Greed from sneaking in, so he didn't have any trouble sleeping.

-0-

It took about a month of getting beat up by Ed – and whatever other shit the chimeras did when Ed wasn't around – for Greed to stop making lecherous comments to Ed. Instead, he took his frustrations out on local women – and occasionally men, unexpectedly – and started treating Ed like just another guy he was travelling with. Which was... _awesome_.

Right up until Greed's proclivities found them running from a village in the middle of the night with only the clothing they'd worn to bed and a couple sheets that Heinkel had grabbed for whatever reason.

So they were stuck in the woods, in the winter, without money or provisions, and with only half of their clothing between them – Ed was the only one who was wearing a shirt, and Greed was completely naked. Ed managed to transmute just enough clothing for them to keep from freezing to death while they debated options, though he was of the opinion that a bit of freezing would be _good_ for Greed.

Heinkel and Darius placed themselves on either side of Ed, huddling close enough to keep him warm. And he wanted to be angry about that pretty obvious coddling attempt, except his ports were already aching from the cold – cold-weather automail only helped so much when you didn't have sufficient insulation against the cold, not to mention that he wasn't using the right oil for the cold, which meant his automail was in danger of locking up if it was too cold for too long without refreshing it – and fuck knew none of them were happy with Greed right then.

"How the fuck are we supposed to survive the night out here?" Darius snarled, glaring at Greed.

"We need to sneak back in and get our kits," Heinkel murmured.

Darius barked a laugh, didn't have to say what they were _all_ aware of: They'd been in that village for almost two weeks, so _everyone_ knew them, and Greed sleeping with half the town's wives and daughters – including the mayor's, which was what had started the mob – meant _everyone_ was out to get their blood.

Greed, though, was staring at Ed a bit thoughtfully. "Oh, I think Fullmetal can sneak in just fine, just as soon as we find a dress."

"Fuck. _No_ ," Ed responded as flatly as he could manage.

Greed smiled, and it wasn't a _nice_ one. "You'd rather starve? Or freeze to death, more likely. _All three of you_."

Ed bared his teeth at the fucker, because he _knew_ what Greed was doing, reminding Ed that it wasn't just _his_ life on the line. (Greed _had_ said, all those months ago, that people like him – people who _cared_ – were easy to manipulate.)

Was his pride worth Darius and Heinkel's lives?

No. Never. They were his friends, as much as they'd been through, and the mere _idea_ of them dying when he could have done something to prevent it, turned Ed's stomach.

He swallowed and looked down at his thin, bedsheet-turned-clothing outfit for a moment, then closed his eyes and pressed his hands together, then transmuted himself a version of one of the winter-time dresses Mum had tried to get him to wear as a kid.

Greed's slow clap had Ed opening his eyes to glare at the fucker, and Greed grinned back, then said, "That actually quite suits you, darling."

Ed was moving toward Greed before he even thought about it, automail fist cocked back to punch. He barely managed to stop himself before he connected with the carbon shield that had covered Greed's face by the time he reached him, because they'd been _just_ far enough apart. "I will rip off your bollocks one day, when you least expect it," Ed promised in as threatening a tone as he could manage.

"Go on, Miss Fullmetal," Greed said, grinning wide and unafraid behind his shield. "Clothing and food, before the cold gets to us normal men's bollocks first."

Ed couldn't really tell if the icy feeling in his chest was because he'd been out in the cold too long, or because of what Greed had just said, but the fucker _did_ have a point about the cold's effect on Darius and Heinkel, and Ed couldn't punch him right that moment without a bit of fancy alchemy. He'd wring Greed's throat once he'd gone to sleep.

It was true enough that no one cast Ed-as-a-girl a second glance. Rather, he was quickly ushered into the small inn and offered a spot in front of the fire and some warm cider. He accepted both, trying not to feel too guilty – he doubted Darius or Heinkel would refuse him a few minutes to warm his metal limbs back up – and waited until the innkeeper had got distracted by a villager who was apparently part of the group watching for Greed to come back into the village for his things, to sneak up to their rooms.

He didn't bother getting _everything_ , mostly because he could only carry so much, but also because it would be easier to manage less stuff, especially if he got caught. (Anyway, Greed clearly didn't need any of his shit, save the wad of bank notes shoved in the pocket of his trousers.)

Ed somehow managed to sneak back out of the village with no one the wiser, despite his well-known inability to sneak around. Greed was very much unimpressed with what he'd grabbed, but Ed told him, on no uncertain terms, where he could shove that, and Darius had let out a laugh that shivered, which reminded Ed he needed to pass out warmer clothing.

Greed, thankfully, did _not_ get them kicked out of any other villages. He did suggest Ed put on a dress a couple more times, but Ed was always happy to break his face a bit to remind him that he might be the 'boss' of their little band, but Ed would _never_ dance to that particular tune for anything less than life-or-death.

-0-

It was somehow fitting that they'd find Hohenheim in a _slum_.

As soon as the bastard saw Ed, he straightened a bit and said, "So, you've come, Edit–"

Ed rushed forward the necessary steps and put all of his weight into breaking the bastard's face.

Greed let out a rather heartfelt, " _Ouch_ ," while Darius whistled and Heinkel sighed.

Ed gave his metal fist a pleased nod. "I feel _so_ much better, now," he announced, and hoped the bastard wouldn't ruin it by trying to use _that name_ again.

"You didn't have to punch me with the automail," Hohenheim complained, rubbing at his face even as it repaired itself the same way Greed's always did. Which was _freaky_ , but not unexpected; Winry _had_ said Hohenheim had some pretty heavy stuff to pass on.

Hohenheim made a show of groaning as he got up, then turned toward where Greed, Darius, and Heinkel had hung back a bit. "Are these your friends?" he asked Ed.

"No," Greed answered before Ed could. "I'm his _boss_."

"And we're just along for the ride," Darius added, motioning between himself and Heinkel.

Hohenheim stepped forward and bowed slightly toward Greed. "Thank you so much for looking after my child."

"No problem," Greed promised. "The cocky little shit _does_ need a bit of a firm hand, right?"

" _Shut up_!" Ed snarled, readying his fist to punch Greed.

But then Hohenheim said, "That's an interesting tattoo," looking at Greed's left hand.

"This?" Greed said, raising the hand in question so the tattoo was in better light. "I guess there's no point in hiding it," he admitted, before pinning Hohenheim with a hard stare. "Don't try to hide anything from us, either, old man."

Hohenheim looked over all of them, meeting Ed's glare last, then dropped his head forward and nodded. "I'll tell you everything," he promised, motioning toward the logs around the fire pit.

Hohenheim, true to his word, told them _everything_. (Or, well, Ed could only _assume_ it was everything.) It was freakish and horrifying and something in Ed's chest hurt, just a little bit, so it wasn't hard to ignore it. It hurt a little bit more when Hohenheim suggested he use the _bastard_ to bring Al's body back, and Ed nearly punched him.

But, then, Hohenheim said, "What about for fixing your own body? Make yourself male?"

Ed froze, couldn't _breathe_ for a moment, because–

Because it was tempting. Still. Same as in Gluttony, forever and ever. He _wanted_ that, wanted to fix himself, to be the same person, outside, as he was _inside_.

But–

Could he use other people's lives for his own gain?

"I _can't_ ," he choked out, and that admittance burned all through him. Because, as much as he _needed_ a male body, he couldn't stand the thought of getting one – _polluting_ one – by killing other people. Something like that, wouldn't it just make _that_ body feel as wrong as his girl's body did? And _then_ what would he be?

Hohenheim closed his eyes and inclined his head. "I see," he murmured, and they were all quiet for a long moment, before he asked if Ed would fight with him against the Dwarf in the Flask. Which, well, of fucking _course_ he was going to be taking that fucker down, with or without Hohenheim's help!

"That's everything, for the moment," Hohenheim finally said. "Get a bite to eat and a good night's sleep."

"Er, right," Ed agreed, feeling a little...off-centre. A little bit because Hohenheim had recognised that he wasn't a girl. (Like, maybe, Al'd managed to get through to him, while they'd been in Liore together. If so, Ed owed his brother a fucking _hell_ of a lot, shit.)

As he turned to go, Ed remembered what Granny had asked him the last couple times he'd seen her, and he turned back toward the bastard, calling, "Hey! Granny asked me to give you Mum's last words!"

Hohenheim turned toward him, eyes hidden behind the reflection of light on his glasses.

"She said, 'Sorry I couldn't keep my promise. I'm going first'."

Hohenheim was completely still for a moment, and then he raised his face toward the stars and started to sob.

Ed's chest ached, even as panic shot through him, and he took a couple rushed steps back, stammering out a couple half-verbalised words of disbelief, before he managed to get one hand up to point at the bastard and get out, "M-men don't c-cry!"

Hohenheim pulled off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes, quietly offering, "I'm sorry, Ed."

 _Ed_ , not _Edith_. Like Hohenheim had accepted what Mum never had.

Ed turned and fled, unable to face the horrible mess of emotions in his chest, and unwilling to spend any more time with the broken down mess that was his father.

-0-

"So," the white figure said when Ed opened his eyes to the white space, "you're here to get your brother back. But, how will you bring back an entire human being? What about the toll? What will you offer in payment?"

Ed stared past it, at the massive stone doors. And, once it'd shut up, the stepped past it to stand direct in front of them.

"The toll is right here," he said. "And it's a big one, too."

"The portal of truth exists within all humans," the figure said. "It is what gives all people the potential to use alchemy. Will you really fall to the level of an _ordinary human_? Unable to use alchemy?"

"Fall to their level?" Ed repeated, thinking of the chimeras and Ling and Hawkeye and Mustang's team, all people unable or unwilling to use alchemy. All people who had inspired or protected him during his and Al's long journey. "I've never been anything but an ordinary human." He looked down at his chest, unbound, because his binding had been destroyed beyond saving during the battle; now _everyone_ knew what he was. "I'm nothing but a hopeless human being who's stuck in a body that's all wrong.

"Ever since I saw this thing called truth, I got suckered in by its power. I became over confident, making mistake after mistake." Nina; Hughes; Ling being taken by Greed; putting Winry in danger, _twice_ ; getting a mine shaft dropped on himself... Even his own temptation to fix his body, despite knowing he'd be taking the lives of other people to do so. "It was a wild ride, but it's over, now."

"Are you sure you can manage without it?"

Al and Winry, Teacher and Sig, Hawkeye and Mustang, the chimeras, even his _father_ had learned to accept him for who he was; it was about time Ed learnt to accept _himself_ , wrong body and all. And if getting rid of his only chance to fix himself was what it took? Well, at least he knew there were people who would stand behind him the whole fucking way.

He turned and flashed the figure a sharp smile and said, "Even without my alchemy, I'll still have all my friends."

"That's the correct answer, Alchemist," the figure said, and Ed pressed his hands together. "You've beaten me. Take him. _All_ of him."

Ed slammed his hands against the stone.

Energy sparked, then _blazed_.

"The door," the figure said, and Ed turned to find it vanishing is it pointed toward where Al was sitting, "it over...there..."

"There you are, you reckless fool!" Ed called as he made his way across the space between them. When he reached his brother, he held down a hand to him and said, "I'm here to bring you home, Al."

Al was smiling like he'd never once doubted Ed would come for him. His hand, when he held it up to Ed, was as thin and weak as the hand Ed held down to him, but when they touched, it was _warm_.

"Let's go home," Ed managed, didn't really care how thick his voice was, because _he had his brother back_. "Everybody's waiting for us!"

-0-

Ed wouldn't let himself be treated until after someone had looked at Darius and the other two chimeras' wounds, so he knew there was someone he trusted with Al. Even then, he'd probably have just told the medic to see to him there, but Teacher had dragged him along after her with an unimpressed stare, so he ended up following her toward the hastily erected women's medical tent, which promised to be awkward in the extreme.

Before they managed to actually reach it, however, Hohenheim called, "Ed," from just behind him.

Startled – he doubted it would ever _not_ be weird to hear the bastard using his proper name – Ed turned back to look, only to find his father standing just behind him, looking a little worse for the wear, himself. "What do you want, old man?" he asked, unable to find quite as much heat as he'd have preferred, but he blamed that on exhaustion.

Hohenheim smiled. "To right one last wrong," he said, and then reached forward and rested his hand against the top of Ed's chest, the tips of his fingers pressing into the skin of his throat.

Red light sparked, and Ed had enough time for his eyes to widen in disbelief – horror? gratitude? – before he was wreathed in the blaze of red.

Everything in his body sort of... _shifted_ , was the only word for it. It wasn't _painful_ , quite, but it _was_ disconcerting.

As the light faded away, Ed saw Hohenheim slowly deconstructing, a wide smile on his face. _"Good-bye, my son."_

"Hohenheim!" Ed shouted, reaching for him, even though he knew it wouldn't do any good.

Except, the voice that came out _wasn't his_. It was a little too deep.

" _Ed_ ," Teacher breathed from just behind him. "You're a–"

" _Boy_ ," Ed finished, staring down at his flat chest.

He'd–

Hohenheim had–

Ed realised that, actually, it turned out that boys _do_ cry, and that was actually pretty okay.

 _ **OWARI**_

.


End file.
